At the lecture

The speaker was tedious.

Thank God

I was offered a glass of wine.

I drifted.

I imagined somebody’s skin.

I could see it stretch on those elongating bones

As he was growing up in Queens,

A perfectly tuned drum

With riddles on it

There for her to solve

As he slipped out of his case.

The corners of his mouth would rise

But his eyes remain serious

Inexplicably green eyes

On that exotic face.

A frame

So thin,

Yet heavy on top of a woman.

A perfect hug machine

That would gain the approval

Of Temple Grandin.